


Scratched Paint

by potionsmaster



Series: The In-Betweens [10]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alliance blue, Armor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, N7, Slow Burn, Snark, blood red, ow my heart, petty arguing, wearing emotions on sleeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Colors, like features, follow the changes of the emotions...</em> ~Pablo Picasso</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratched Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Game 3. there be feelz here….ye be warned.

_**Scratched Paint**_ , by potionsmaster

 

Rating: T for language, implied self-love

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

The thing Vega noticed after Mars was the stripe on the commander’s right arm that designated his rank: it had gone from the traditional blood red to Alliance blue.  The commander had come down to the cargo hold while they were en-route to the Citadel, carrying an unknown set of armor.  He had asked about it once and exactly once.

 

“What’s with the change, Loco?”

 

Shepard grunted as he stowed it in his locker, not making eye contact.

 

“Backup hardsuit; my usual has to be repaired.  Dust from the storm got in the servos and some of the ablative coating got abraded.”

 

He furrowed his brows at that.  Those were pretty minor issues, all truth be told.  He could fix those in his sleep.  Certainly not enough to warrant an entire change-up.  

 

“Oookayyy...y’know, if you give it to me, I can probably have it refinished and-”

 

“-That’s ok, Lieutenant.”

 

“Are you sure?  Because by the time we dock, I could-”

 

“Vega.   _Drop it_.”  Shepard’s voice was quiet and dangerous as he slammed his locker shut, metallic _bang_ the final note in the conversation.  Kinda weird the commander was this cranky about it, but he supposed even the great Commander Shepard had limits to his patience.  He couldn’t really blame him, he guessed...the major had been...odd.  On Mars, he meant.  Falling into line easily behind the commander on the field, but relentlessly questioning Shepard.  He was like a varren with a pyjack leg; he just wouldn’t let the Cerberus thing rest.  And that was on top of the whole Reaper attack in Vancouver, and running from Earth-

 

“I’m going back to medbay,” Shepard muttered, stomping away.

 

So he never tried to say anything about it again. Instead, he watched.

 

~*~*~*~

 

He saw Doc purse her lips and shake her head to hide a smile the first time she saw it and the commander merely scowled at her.  

 

“Oh, Shepard...” was the only thing she said before checking her thermal clip on her pistol.  They had more pressing concerns waiting for them outside the shuttle door.

 

~*~*~*~

 

When Scars came aboard, he took one look at the blue and clamped his mandibles down tight.  Vega quietly explained to him what happened on Mars while Shepard conferred with Primarch Victus on the other side of the shuttle.

 

"How's Kaidan?" the turian asked softly, pulling Shepard aside once they disembarked from the Kodiak in the cargo hold.  He saw the commander’s shoulders hunch, pulling off his helmet.

 

“He...hasn’t woken up yet.  Still in a coma, last I knew.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Shepard...”

 

The commander brushed Garrus’ hand off his shoulder and left silently, not bothering to kit down.  After a moment, the turian looked at him, then busied himself with his own gear.  

 

~*~*~*~

 

He saw every time they were in the shuttle, getting ready to drop, the commander would nonchalantly touch the blue stripe. Every time there was a break in battle, he would look at the blue and be reinvigorated, hurling himself at their opponents with a renewed fury (and in his opinion, sheer recklessness and that was something, considering he had crash landed a shuttle into another shuttle). Whenever they docked at the Citadel, the commander always gave a minimum of 24 ship-cycle hours for shore leave and disappeared.  When he came back, it was a weird mix of peace, worry, and tension until they got underway again.

 

He also noticed the commander would linger and talk to Steve a bit longer each time he made his rounds.  Esteban himself was starting to relax a bit more and seemed to have a brighter outlook, despite everything.

 

“You’re chipper lately,” he remarked after he caught the pilot whistling.  Shepard had just left the cargo hold.

 

“Yeah...yeah, I am,” Steve replied. “I think I’m going to ask him to meet me for a drink.”

 

“Heh...good luck with that!  Don’t think the commander has dating on his mind right now though...or that he’d be interested in dudes, either.  He never said anything about it back on Earth, at least.  But you do you, Esteban.  You keep hoping.”  

 

The pilot rolled his eyes and went back to stock inventory, whistling again.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The next time they docked at the Citadel, Vega stayed behind.  He wanted to enjoy the quiet that settled comfortably over the Normandy.  The extra long session he did on his weight set was a rare luxury, as was the shower to himself.  It was a bit of a surprise when he came back and saw Esteban sitting at his work bench, huddled in on himself and scrolling listlessly through a requisitions datapad.

 

“Yo...you alright?” he asked, pulling up the other stool and leaning on his elbows.

 

“You were right, Mr. Vega,” came the soft response.

 

“Aw, man...I’m sorry.  The more I thought about it, I don’t blame you for hoping.  He _did_ seem to spend more time with you than anybody else.  You guys really seemed to have a bond.”

 

“Well, when you’re both missing someone, it’s easy to have something in common. It’s alright, though.  I’m ok.”

 

He brought out a bottle of tequila he had stashed and poured a couple.  They sat in companionable silence, occasionally sipping the golden liquor.  Steve looked over at the armory bench and stared at the bracer that was set aside.

 

The blue stripe on it had a scratch.

 

“Oh...the major is awake now,” Steve added blandly before taking another swig. “Shepard said he got an email.”

 

“That’s good, I guess...” he said.  “Seems like those two have a personal beef going on.”

 

“Shepard said they were best friends on the SR1.  The major didn’t agree with him for the Collectors’ mission.”

 

“Yeah...” he snorted into his drink, “I got that.  Didn’t know the friends part, though.  Makes more sense now.”

 

They lapsed into silence again, staring at the scratched blue stripe.  

 

~*~*~*~

 

Missions continued, the strange ritual of Shepard touching the blue stripe before jumping from the shuttle becoming commonplace.  Then on the next visit to the Citadel, something changed.  The commander was even more focused (if that was even possible) on the mission objective, and five times more terse.  Cerberus was attempting to take over the Council, apparently.  Shepard intended to put a stop to it.

 

“Bailey, what about the hospital?  Is it intact?” he heard the commander demand, kneeling in front of the bleeding man.  He couldn’t make out the answer behind the coughing.  There was no time to think while they chased an unknown hitman, trying to get to the Council before the assailant did.

 

He and Garrus shared a look behind Shepard’s back as they rode up on top of the elevator (the top?  Really?  And Loco wondered how he got the nickname _Loco_...) Then they jumped to another elevator and bullets whizzed up between their feet.  Shepard almost rolled off the top of the moving box trying to avoid it when it lurched to a stop.  Before he knew what was happening, the commander had kicked through the ceiling panel and dropped out of sight, pulling his pistol.

 

“No rest for the wicked and weary,” Garrus quipped before following him down the hole.  He was shocked to find Shepard facing down gun to gun with the one person he didn’t expect: the major.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“I better not regret this...”

 

“You won’t...” the commander reassured him, far more gently than he expected him to.  A look of relief flitted across Shepard’s face for a brief second before they both trained their sidearms on the councilor.  The major’s shot drilled home, surprising Vega.  He honestly didn’t think it was something Alenko would do; he just assumed that Shepard would take the shot.  Shepard _always_ took the shot.

 

Apparently Shepard was surprised, too. He didn’t miss the inquisitive look of concern the commander threw at Alenko, either.

 

“...Kaidan?” Shepard asked softly, inaudible to almost everybody.

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” came the terse but equally quiet reply.

 

That seemed to satisfy the commander for the moment and they turned their attention to the elevator doors behind them, guns raised.  Bailey and his squad of officers spilled through and everybody breathed easier.  It almost escaped Vega’s notice that when Shepard walked past the major, he nudged his elbow against Alenko’s, scratched Alliance blue stripe against fresh Alliance blue armor, small clack of ablative plates knocking together.  Same as right before they dropped on Mars, only the major had reciprocated it then.  

 

Alenko disappeared after that, much to the commander’s disappointment.  

 

~*~*~*~

 

A few days later, Shepard was in cheerful spirits.  The major had joined the Normandy again after all and was settling in, going through his equipment in his locker.  Vega himself was working on the armory bench.  Shepard finally authorized him to work on repairing the scratches on his armor and he wanted the blue touched up.  Alenko came over and watched him work, brow furrowed.

 

“When did he...make it _blue_?”

 

“Uh, after Mars, I think.  Wouldn’t let me touch his primary.  Come to think of it, he wouldn’t really let me work too much on this, either.  ‘Bout time he let me fix it.”

 

The major said nothing, watching the airbrush fill in the chips and dings.

 

“Say, speaking of Loco...why are we still at the Citadel?  I thought the Council would want to send us far and away on some Spectre mission, since, y’know.  Now we have two of you on board.”

 

Alenko clenched his jaw before replying stiffly.

 

“He _is_ on a mission.  It’s not exactly classified, as far as I can tell, but he didn’t give me much. I know he met with a contact in Purgatory and has left the Serpent Nebula with them.  Orders are Normandy stays in drydock until his return, crew is on light duty and shore leave.  Enjoy your time off, Lieutenant.”

 

The major turn on his heel and stalked over to the elevator.  Esteban was silent through the entire exchange.  Vega just shook his head and went back to detailing the armor.

 

“Wonder if the major was always this fussy,” he chuckled. “It has to be exhausting to be that angry all the time.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

He didn’t mean to overhear it.  He really didn’t.  It wasn’t like he was _spying_ or anything...one of the sockets to his ratchet wrench set fell off the work bench and got itself lost among a stack of crates.  It was wedged right in the middle.  He could get it, he just had to stretch just a few more centimeters.  And then he heard them.  Low, angry murmurs and exasperated sighs in between the sound of armor being tossed into a locker.  He peered through the cracks in between the crates.  The socket wasn’t going anywhere.  And neither was he, apparently...it probably wouldn’t do him any favors to pop up at the moment.

 

“Shepard.  That was stupid.”

 

Alenko’s clipped tones had an even harsher edge this time.  

 

“Your concern is noted, Major,” the commander sighed, chucking his greaves in his locker.  Blood red flashed by the crack he looked through.  No wonder Shepard let him patch the blue stripe armor.  He was back in his primary set.

 

“Noted, but never taken into account.  Do you realize what could have _happened_?  If you hadn’t come back??”  Alenko snapped.  He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head angrily.

 

“Probably better than you, Kaidan.  But somebody had to do it.  I doubt you would have volunteered, and besides.  She wanted me alone.  That was the deal.”

 

“Shepard, I don’t _trust_ that woman!  She thinks of nothing and no one but herself!”

 

Another couple of heavy thuds sounded as the commander threw his chest piece, bracers, and pauldrons in his locker.

 

“Aw, Kaid...she misses you, too.  She was asking about you again.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Look...” Shepard sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I gave Aria exactly what she wanted.  And now I have a mercenary army with air support at my disposal, whenever I need. I had to...”  Alenko scoffed and leaned against the lockers, arms crossed tightly in front of him.  Shepard closed his locker and leaned on it next to him.

 

“You always do this, John...”

 

That was weird.  Shepard was always _Shepard_.  Even Anderson didn’t call him by his first name the entire time the commander was incarcerated.

 

“Always what?”  

 

Now there was a teasing element to the commander’s voice.  Alenko shook his head again.

 

“Act like a reckless ass.  Ass...”

 

The commander smirked and shifted his weight against the lockers.

 

“I used to worry about you on the SR1, too, but at least then you would actually fucking take me along.  I can’t have your six if you don’t let me,” the major admonished.  The fire seemed to have gone out a little, though.  More like he was saying the words for the sake of saying them.  Shepard still had that amused half-smile on his face.  This must’ve been an old argument they had pretty frequently.

 

“I know, Kaid, and again.  I’m sorry...”

 

“Useless platitudes.”

 

“They usually work on most people.”

 

“I’m not most people.”

 

“No, you are not, that’s for _damn_ sure,” Shepard laughed.  The major bit the inside of his cheek.  “I wasn’t lying earlier,” the commander said, seriousness settling in. “When I said I couldn’t imagine facing the Reapers without you...”

 

“Heh.  Couldn’t keep me away if you tried.  Ass.”  

 

“That’s ‘Commander Ass’ to you.”  Shepard stood up and rolled his neck, cracking it.  “You want a cup of tea?  For old time’s sake?”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“Excellent.  Did you see my other armor?”

 

“Yeah.  I watched Lt Vega working on it.  He did a nice job.”

 

“Yeah, he did.  Looks nice hanging up, though now my other one looks like absolute shit next to it.  Hopefully I don’t have to break it out again...”

 

He didn’t dare breathe until the two men were secured in the elevator.   _Damn_...if he spoke to Loco like that, he probably wouldn’t be standing here.  Seemed like whatever little black rain cloud had been plaguing the major while Shepard was gone had spent itself.  He stretched his arm out again, straining to reach the socket again.  Probably best if he kept this little exchange between them to himself.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Vega!”

 

“Sir?”  He snapped a salute at Shepard.  The commander was standing in front of his open locker, looking pretty haggard.  Hackett had ordered the Normandy back to the Citadel for mandatory repair and shore leave for the crew.  

 

“Where’s my backup? Did you take it for repairs?”  He rifled through his locker, throwing pieces behind him.

 

“No, sir.  Last I knew, it was there...”

 

“Huh...alright, well...keep an eye out for it, I guess.  Maybe Cortez took it for upgrades.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“A _CLONE??_  You have GOT to be shitting me!”

 

Vega was pissed; those Cat 6 bastards had a gun in his, Wrex and Tali’s faces.  He glanced over his left shoulder; Alenko, EDI, and Esteban were in the same situation across the catwalk.  Team Hammerhead tied with Team Mako on this one.  Shepard, Garrus, and Liara weren’t fairing any better, and that Brooks woman?   _Mierde_ , but it really hit the fan now.

 

Shepard kept glancing up at Team Hammerhead.  He locked eyes with Alenko and briefly touched the red stripe, just like he used to with the blue in battle.  Who the hell knew how they were going to get out of this one...

 

~*~*~*~

 

The commander was pissed.  Vega sighed as he watched the vid footage from the battle in the cargo hold. It was really something to see Shepard face himself. The clone had managed to steal his backup armor set, which was apparently a grievous insult.  Their omni-tools blazed, crackling and spitting molten sparks when they clashed.   Red stripe met blue in a contest of strength.  

 

The clone was shoved back on the vid and fought off repeatedly.  Alenko’s biotics lit up the hold in an eerie blue light, a watchful shadow behind Shepard. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Commander Loco indeed...he would expect nothing else from being aboard the Normandy, though. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it must’ve been like to battle himself and then have his imposter drop from the Normandy in flight instead of allowing himself to be captured.  

 

Wild.

 

“...can’t believe it’s lost.”

 

“I know, Shepard.”

 

“I mean, I know it was just my backup set, but...it’s been with me through a lot.  It’s like the _other_ pair of sweat pants you always bum around in when your first pair is in the wash.”

 

L2 chuckled dryly.  Vega exited the vid and glanced up; they were walking through the cargo hold and inspecting the new repairs.

 

“Never really thought of it that way before, Shep, but sure.  Whatever you say.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow.  The major had his hand on Shepard’s shoulder and was squeezing lightly.  

 

“Now you’re just patronizing me, K,” Shepard grinned at him.  Alenko dropped his hand and gave him a playful shove.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Ass...”

 

“That’s ‘Major Ass’ to you.”

 

“Well, at least you admit it now...” the commander said coyly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.  It was met with a scowl.

 

“Go fuck yourself.”

 

“Already did.  That was earlier, in the shower.”

 

“Ok, did _not_ need to know that.” Vega pursed his lips at that, at least he and the major could agree on that, even if they didn’t always agree on tactics in the field.

 

“Didn’t you used to complain about wanting status updates more frequently?”

 

The major rolled his eyes and turned back, heading to the elevator.  Vega simply kept his head down, pretending to be absorbed in cleaning Shepard’s Widow.  Pretty sweet piece of machinery, if he did say so.

 

“Not those kinds, you heathen.”

 

“HA!”

 

The elevator door cut off the rest of the conversation when it closed.  Whatever tension they initially had was gone at this point.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  Shepard still looked rough, but at least now he smiled more.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Vega saw the commander’s blood red stripe gleaming in the dusky air further down the street.  London was a special kind of burned-out hell.  He wanted to confirm tactics one last time before they started the final push.  One last word to his mentor.  He walked closer and overheard some of the hushed conversation.

 

“I’m not running, Kaidan.  It’s not an option.”  The commander shifted uncomfortably, running his tongue over the point of one of his canines.  For his part, L2 was looking pretty calm.  He was always cool under pressure, though.  A good juxtaposition to the commander’s tempest.  

 

“Nope.  Never was.  You’re not built that way, no matter what you thought.”  

 

He paused, pretending to mess with his omni-tool.  Sounded kinda personal...he didn’t want to interrupt.  

 

“When this is over...I’m gonna be waiting for you.” Yep.  Definitely personal. “You’d better show up.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna fight like hell for the chance to hold you again.”

 

“Kaidan...Don’t give me another reason to wear a blue stripe.”

 

They stared at each other for a heavy moment.

 

“Yeah. So...take care, Major.”  

 

Shepard swallowed hard and clenched his jaw.  Brief fists curled at his sides as he started to move off, but Kaidan grabbed him before he could get more than a step away. He quickly pressed their lips together, a stolen goodbye.  Vega raised his eyebrows in surprise; they had pussyfooted around the ship as much as possible, but this...this blew whatever secret they were trying to hide right out of the water.

 

Their hands grasped at each other’s armor plates, trying to bring them as close together as possible. The kiss deepened, desperate.  They must have truly thought they weren’t coming back. What had the major called it?  Useless platitudes.  The other soldiers on the street stopped and stared at their ranking officers, unsure of what to do.  Vega did, though.

 

He wolf-whistled at them.  Howled like a wolf at the moon and started laughing when they both flipped him off.  The other soldiers chuckled and went about their tasks, a little less tension in their steps as they prepared the final assault.  He stepped closer to his officers.

 

“Fuck off, Vega,” the commander said, eyes twinkling as he fought a self-conscious smile.  L2′s ears were pink.

 

“Who, me?  I wasn’t doing nothin’...” he grinned, then gestured at the office building with his AR.  “Anderson’s up there, waiting for you.”

 

“Yeah,” Shepard said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I suppose this is it.  I’ll see you on the other side, Lieutenant.”

 

“Aw, Loco, you care!  No kisses, though...that’s the major’s deal, not mine.”

 

“Fuck off, Vega,” Kaidan snorted. “Stay safe, Shepard.”  He took a step back.  “Well...I should find the rest of my squad.”

 

“Yeah...”

 

“You know?”  he cocked his head to the side and glanced at the lieutenant while Shepard rolled his shoulders and moved off. “I’ve never been to London...”

  
  


 

 

 

 

 


End file.
